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“What can you lose?” Smith said to me over dinner one night. “He sounds nice. Accept his next date and have fun. You don’t have to marry him.”
Taking Smith's advice with a fun what-the-heck-can-I-lose? attitude I accepted his next date. It was truly amazing. At 0-dark-early Boats picked me up and drove me in his antique Model A to the small local airport. With only a purse and picnic lunch I had prepared in hand he flew us to another rural airport where we got in his cute convertible and drove 20 minutes to his boat! My head was reeling. Was this really happening to me? Pinch myself!
At the helm Boats skillfully guided his 35’ power boat from its slip to the open waters of the Chesapeake Bay. Did I say it was a childhood playground for both of us? The October air was warm, boat traffic scarce. “Be careful. Don’t lead him on. Be clear that you’re looking for friendship and fun. Sounds like you’re in his sights.” I thought.
I asked “Where are you headed?” “Well, you said you’d like to go to Tangier Island for a day trip so that’s what we’re doing.” he replied.
Conversation centered on his world built for two, his collection of antique cars he restored himself, numerous boats and planes used for his business and adventures on the water. The scenery was watery and chanting was esy as I sat by him in the double wide captain’s chair built for two.
Tangier’s harbor is quaint and colorful, lined with work boats, buoys and stacks of crab traps, tools of the many watermen who ply the waters pursuing those local crustaceans.
With his boat tied up at a dock, we strolled along the streets of Tangier, dodging golf carts, bicycles and the occasional truck, taking in the small community. We talked about life as we grew up, our adult lives with spouses and life today as singles. "You've been single too long" Boats said. I didn't know what he meant and I did think about living alone so long I get set in my ways like concrete.
Our picnic lunch we consumed onboard after an ice cream stop on land and watched boats come and go. The ride back to the marina was quick and easy.
The boat was putty under his control, docked flawlessly in its slip like it’d never left. After a short ride to the airport (no security checks here), we were taking off again in his plane. Destination Richmond before sunset. From the air we found many private grass airstrips, cultivated farm land and forests, traced rivers flowing to the Bay, discussed clouds and continued playing ‘Do you know…?’
Boats landed his plane for two flawlessly, taxing to the hanger where we disembarked. The ride to my house in his Model A was delightful. He recounted driving it across country from Washington,DC to Seattle with his grandson a few years earlier in the Great Race. He declined my offer to come in after he deposited me and the empty picnic basket in my home.
As I closed my front door, I was reflecting on my date with Boats, a most unique successful man with plenty of toys that ignite my sense of adventure. As he drove away, I heard “aahooga”, a fitting “Good night” from an old car in mint condition with a delightful outrageous man who likes to play behind the wheel. Smith’s advice was spot on – have fun with the guy to have fun with.
Like Two Dogs Meeting in the Park
Lunch with a stranger is awkward at best, especially when you're sizing each other up with the dating agenda. Boats took my coat to hang up, pulled my chair out for me to be seated and asked the waiter to bring some water. He got points for that.
Throughout lunch we discovered we grew up 4 blocks from each other, went to the same church and he delivered my family's newspaper. My brother's best friend grew up next door to him. We spent childhood summers at the river (a Richmond tradition). Being older than I, our paths never crossed. What a small world - so like RVA.
After graduating with an engineering degree (I' ve never been able to talk to engineers or make sense of what they say) he began a business making gizmos for yachts. I'd heard of the business last year from a church member who was moving to Europe to handle the company's Middle East business.
He sold that business after decades of bounding success, retired and started two more businesses which he gave to key employees. (Dang! How generous. I'm impressed.) He told me about his suburban house, winter home in Florida (he hates cold weather) and his future plans.
His wife died suddenly in April (they just married the previous December) and now he's single again. He likes being married. I felt a catch in my stomach when I heard that. A rule of mine was at least 2 years being divorced or widowed and here I was with a guy whose wife passed away 6 months ago! Yikes!
He had gobs of fun toys - motorcycles, antique cars, and boats (How does he have time to play with all of that?) He said his world was built for two and he was one looking for his two. More points for having a clear goal.
"Do you like to garden?" he asked. "Well, I have a little piece of dirt I dig in." I answered. He has extensive gardens his next-to-last late wife planted and admits he barely knows one plant from another.
We played "Do you know.." and shared stories of match dates. His humor was delightful as he described the match gals and his adventures checking them out. They sounded too familiar. It's affirming to know the guys get a similar menu as the girls.
I thought "OK. You've done your career. I just wrote Smart Women Make Their Own Rules; the Professional Woman's Guide to Igniting your Power, got a new coaching client and have a keen focus for my future. You're kicking back and I'm rolling. I don't see much future here."
Three hours later Boats walked me to my car. For some reason I kissed him on the cheek. What was that about? I wondered. He waved as I drove by going to have dinner with Kathleen and tell her about another match date gone south.
Daily Boats called and emailed me. Checking caller ID I didn't answer his calls and returned emails 24 hours later. He was relentless. Guess he didn't have the same experience as I.
Throughout lunch we discovered we grew up 4 blocks from each other, went to the same church and he delivered my family's newspaper. My brother's best friend grew up next door to him. We spent childhood summers at the river (a Richmond tradition). Being older than I, our paths never crossed. What a small world - so like RVA.
After graduating with an engineering degree (I' ve never been able to talk to engineers or make sense of what they say) he began a business making gizmos for yachts. I'd heard of the business last year from a church member who was moving to Europe to handle the company's Middle East business.
He sold that business after decades of bounding success, retired and started two more businesses which he gave to key employees. (Dang! How generous. I'm impressed.) He told me about his suburban house, winter home in Florida (he hates cold weather) and his future plans.
His wife died suddenly in April (they just married the previous December) and now he's single again. He likes being married. I felt a catch in my stomach when I heard that. A rule of mine was at least 2 years being divorced or widowed and here I was with a guy whose wife passed away 6 months ago! Yikes!
He had gobs of fun toys - motorcycles, antique cars, and boats (How does he have time to play with all of that?) He said his world was built for two and he was one looking for his two. More points for having a clear goal.
"Do you like to garden?" he asked. "Well, I have a little piece of dirt I dig in." I answered. He has extensive gardens his next-to-last late wife planted and admits he barely knows one plant from another.
We played "Do you know.." and shared stories of match dates. His humor was delightful as he described the match gals and his adventures checking them out. They sounded too familiar. It's affirming to know the guys get a similar menu as the girls.
I thought "OK. You've done your career. I just wrote Smart Women Make Their Own Rules; the Professional Woman's Guide to Igniting your Power, got a new coaching client and have a keen focus for my future. You're kicking back and I'm rolling. I don't see much future here."
Three hours later Boats walked me to my car. For some reason I kissed him on the cheek. What was that about? I wondered. He waved as I drove by going to have dinner with Kathleen and tell her about another match date gone south.
Daily Boats called and emailed me. Checking caller ID I didn't answer his calls and returned emails 24 hours later. He was relentless. Guess he didn't have the same experience as I.
He Really Did What He Said
“ Yes. This is Smokie,” I replied to the man’s inquiry when I answered the phone.
“This is Boats, from match. I answered your email the other day saying I’d call when I got to town and so I’m calling.” It was 10:30 Sunday morning. Usually I'm at church til 11:30. Is this Divine Intervention?
He continued “Will you fly to Williamsburg with me for lunch today?”
“I would love to” I answered quickly. Then I thought “How did he know I love flying in little planes? Oh, no! Suppose he’s Jack the Ripper and I’m in the plane. He could kill me….. You’d better rethink this.”
He continued “ It’s 10:30 now. There’s a window between 11 and 3 so I’ll pick you up.”
“I going to Charlottesville for dinner with friends and I don’t know what time I have to leave.” I said truthfully. “My friend’s calling later to tell me when to meet.”
“Here’s my number. You call me when dinner plans are settled.” he replied, clearly a man on a mission.
With his number jotted on a napkin, we hung up. I was thinking “Wow! Fly to Williamsburg for lunch is nuts. You can drive there in an hour; how’d he know I love to fly in little planes?”
I recalled Boats' conversation with Kathleen, my match mentor and friend I was meeting for dinner that evening. With 3:45 as my departure time, I called Boats back.
We agreed to a lunch meeting at 12:30 at a place his friend owns. I declined his offer to pick me up – a bad idea for a first totally blind date. And he could be Jack-the-Ripper.
In front of the restaurant I saw a short man in a yellow jacket and funny cap. “Is this he? He doesn’t look like what I remember. Wish I'd read his profile better.” I thought.
As I approached, he said “I’m Boats. You must be Smokie.”
“Guilty.” I answered playfully, as we sized each other up, just like 2 dogs in the park.
“This is Boats, from match. I answered your email the other day saying I’d call when I got to town and so I’m calling.” It was 10:30 Sunday morning. Usually I'm at church til 11:30. Is this Divine Intervention?
He continued “Will you fly to Williamsburg with me for lunch today?”
“I would love to” I answered quickly. Then I thought “How did he know I love flying in little planes? Oh, no! Suppose he’s Jack the Ripper and I’m in the plane. He could kill me….. You’d better rethink this.”
He continued “ It’s 10:30 now. There’s a window between 11 and 3 so I’ll pick you up.”
“I going to Charlottesville for dinner with friends and I don’t know what time I have to leave.” I said truthfully. “My friend’s calling later to tell me when to meet.”
“Here’s my number. You call me when dinner plans are settled.” he replied, clearly a man on a mission.
With his number jotted on a napkin, we hung up. I was thinking “Wow! Fly to Williamsburg for lunch is nuts. You can drive there in an hour; how’d he know I love to fly in little planes?”
I recalled Boats' conversation with Kathleen, my match mentor and friend I was meeting for dinner that evening. With 3:45 as my departure time, I called Boats back.
We agreed to a lunch meeting at 12:30 at a place his friend owns. I declined his offer to pick me up – a bad idea for a first totally blind date. And he could be Jack-the-Ripper.
In front of the restaurant I saw a short man in a yellow jacket and funny cap. “Is this he? He doesn’t look like what I remember. Wish I'd read his profile better.” I thought.
As I approached, he said “I’m Boats. You must be Smokie.”
“Guilty.” I answered playfully, as we sized each other up, just like 2 dogs in the park.
What did your last Hail Mary get you?
“A girl’s gotta eat, you know.” was my mantra and check point for match guys. Lunches and dinners with several men were interesting and tested my powers of observation, to say the least. There was Swimmer, who had shoulders like Arnold Schwarzenegger . His wife’s death was lengthy and very bad dinner conversation. He talked about redoing his house to keep busy. From the shirt he was wearing I can only imagine what his house looks like.
I called Talker. He answered his phone while leaving the grocery store. He ranted with political opinions about every local, state, and national politician. Attempts to change the subject were unsuccessful as I could barely get a word in edgewise. After 35 minutes, I was a wild woman, more than ready to get off the phone. His groceries were put away and he was now ready to walk his dog. Not wanting to be rude (it must’ve been the proper southern upbringing) I jumped in and said quickly “Thanks for taking my call. I won’t take more of your time.” As I pressed the end button, I heard “Please call again.”
With 2 hours left in my match subscription it was time for my final play. Not much had changed except an adventure with my intuition and some dinner dates. With 30 minutes free to wrap up, I scanned the top 6 guys on the list of people who had viewed my profile. Three met my top 6 checks. A hasty note to each with “Hi Handsome” in the subject said “You peeked at me. It’s my last day on match. Check out my profile and if you like what you see, contact me. Here’s how. ” with email and phone added. As I hit the send button to each, I said “Wishing you a great life with the gal of your dreams.”
I had no expectation of results from this Hail Mary. Yet I had to take advantage of one last opportunity created months earlier when my subscription began. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. And there was no Plan B.
I called Talker. He answered his phone while leaving the grocery store. He ranted with political opinions about every local, state, and national politician. Attempts to change the subject were unsuccessful as I could barely get a word in edgewise. After 35 minutes, I was a wild woman, more than ready to get off the phone. His groceries were put away and he was now ready to walk his dog. Not wanting to be rude (it must’ve been the proper southern upbringing) I jumped in and said quickly “Thanks for taking my call. I won’t take more of your time.” As I pressed the end button, I heard “Please call again.”
With 2 hours left in my match subscription it was time for my final play. Not much had changed except an adventure with my intuition and some dinner dates. With 30 minutes free to wrap up, I scanned the top 6 guys on the list of people who had viewed my profile. Three met my top 6 checks. A hasty note to each with “Hi Handsome” in the subject said “You peeked at me. It’s my last day on match. Check out my profile and if you like what you see, contact me. Here’s how. ” with email and phone added. As I hit the send button to each, I said “Wishing you a great life with the gal of your dreams.”
I had no expectation of results from this Hail Mary. Yet I had to take advantage of one last opportunity created months earlier when my subscription began. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. And there was no Plan B.
Lessons Learned from the King's Speech
Friends raved about The Kings Speech. Hollywood proclaimed it Best Picture and Colin Firth, who played King George VI, Best Actor. The story of the man who unwillingly became King of England and overcame stuttering and insecurity is filled with lessons of personal development. In honor of the Royal Wedding on April 29 here are a few lessons learned from the King’s Speech:
Things are not always as they appear or you perceive.
No one is exempt from trauma during childhood.
Every career has areas pushing you beyond your skills.
Good rapport and trust in the professionals that help you is key to success.
A cheering squad of one, whether a friend or loved one, is another big key to achievement.
A story, well written and presented, is inspiring, entertaining, and thought provoking. Bravo Hollywood for your choices!
And finally, everyone needs a best friend – a confidante and buddy who shares the valley of disappointment and the peak of success.
Things are not always as they appear or you perceive.
No one is exempt from trauma during childhood.
Every career has areas pushing you beyond your skills.
Good rapport and trust in the professionals that help you is key to success.
A cheering squad of one, whether a friend or loved one, is another big key to achievement.
A story, well written and presented, is inspiring, entertaining, and thought provoking. Bravo Hollywood for your choices!
And finally, everyone needs a best friend – a confidante and buddy who shares the valley of disappointment and the peak of success.
Who'd have thought?
A milestone birthday requires a party and month long celebration. This birthday was going to be marked appropriately.
A burst of energy got home projects finished that had been put off too long. Plans were made and invites issued to friends, including Farmer.
When he rsvp’d, I asked about the date for a visit to his home going unanswered. He was busy getting crops up was the reply. “Something’s not right here.” Intuition said.
The party was a blast with best friends sharing cake and partaking in merriment. Farmer came late, was pleasant, and brought a bottle of champagne. He left very early, saying he had a long drive home.
Recounting my birthday evening, I said to Kathleen, my mentor in all things single women need to know, “It’s not adding up. There’s an 8 year gap when I add up all the numbers.”
“Have you googled him?” she asked.
"Never occurred to me. Let’s do it now.” I said. “His name is ordinary. Hold on! Last week we talked about his middle name and it’s really different. Let’s try that. His middle name is Westerly.”
With no expectation of any result, we were floored to see what Mr. Google provided. Up popped a PDF of a Court of Appeals of Virginia document! We were glued to the web as we read all 22 pages of the document. It read like a steamy novel ready to be a screen play and Oscar winning movie! He was contesting a divorce from his wife of 9 years (not 1 as he said) on numerous counts, including adultery. And he was contesting the courts finding that he committed marital waste and improper equitable distribution of his business.
Naturally the link to that PDF went to friends. Farmer became The Rat, a lowlife hosebag as my guy friends said. When I mentioned it to another girlfriend, she said she made it a point to talk to him at my birthday. “He was rude and condescending to me.” she said.
No wonder my intuition was squawking.
A burst of energy got home projects finished that had been put off too long. Plans were made and invites issued to friends, including Farmer.
When he rsvp’d, I asked about the date for a visit to his home going unanswered. He was busy getting crops up was the reply. “Something’s not right here.” Intuition said.
The party was a blast with best friends sharing cake and partaking in merriment. Farmer came late, was pleasant, and brought a bottle of champagne. He left very early, saying he had a long drive home.
Recounting my birthday evening, I said to Kathleen, my mentor in all things single women need to know, “It’s not adding up. There’s an 8 year gap when I add up all the numbers.”
“Have you googled him?” she asked.
"Never occurred to me. Let’s do it now.” I said. “His name is ordinary. Hold on! Last week we talked about his middle name and it’s really different. Let’s try that. His middle name is Westerly.”
With no expectation of any result, we were floored to see what Mr. Google provided. Up popped a PDF of a Court of Appeals of Virginia document! We were glued to the web as we read all 22 pages of the document. It read like a steamy novel ready to be a screen play and Oscar winning movie! He was contesting a divorce from his wife of 9 years (not 1 as he said) on numerous counts, including adultery. And he was contesting the courts finding that he committed marital waste and improper equitable distribution of his business.
Naturally the link to that PDF went to friends. Farmer became The Rat, a lowlife hosebag as my guy friends said. When I mentioned it to another girlfriend, she said she made it a point to talk to him at my birthday. “He was rude and condescending to me.” she said.
No wonder my intuition was squawking.
Doing the Math
Mr. Took-the-Bait morphed into Farmer. Talk about farm life, cattle, his shooting prowess, trips, my book and assorted topics made phone conversations delightful. Emails flew with daily reports. Weekly he was in town for engaging lunches at numerous new restaurants. My fave was Stronghill. One dinner invite I declined as I’m never available for a last minute engagement after Wednesday. (A single woman rule learned from a single mentor.)
Farmer accepted my invite in early August to go to a friend’s wedding in DC in late August. Then I heard nothing for three weeks. “Should I email? Should I call?” I wondered. “What is this all about?”
The wedding date was getting closer and if he wasn’t going, I was taking a girlfriend. I had to know. Enough of this silence.
“Would you come to my place for a visit? Come for the weekend and we’ll go on to the wedding on Saturday.” his email said, replying to my inquiry “Do you still want to go to the wedding at the end of the month?”
“Something’s missing” was a hunch. No contact for three weeks and I wasn’t about to get myself in a bad situation. Carefully I crafted my reply “Let’s meet in Fredericksburg at 0 dark early and make it a day trip". He agreed.
At the wedding, Farmer was charming. He declined my request for a dance to check out dancing skills he claimed to have. Chats were on a variety of topics and engaging, especially over the omission of the word “obey” from the vows. Note to self – what’s the big deal?
On the return drive to Fredericksburg he invited me to his home for the weekend. This time I accepted for mid September, three weeks later. A wave to each other in our separate cars headed to our respective homes was “Goodbye. It was fun.”
When in Fredericksburg, I always get a Carls treat. Savoring Carl’s dessert, I relived the day. The wedding was beautiful, the most exquisite I’ve seen, no detail left out; being with Farmer; seeing old friends all in the lush setting of George Washington’s River Farm were as delicious as the frozen treat.
“Something’s not right. Something's missing. ” my intuition strongly resounded. I added up the numbers – years married to first wife, years married to second wife left an 8 year gap, no matter how I added. “Something’s missing. ” was the echo.
“No kidding” I replied. “But what is it? I'm no math whiz but 8 years is a life span. What in the world....”
Farmer accepted my invite in early August to go to a friend’s wedding in DC in late August. Then I heard nothing for three weeks. “Should I email? Should I call?” I wondered. “What is this all about?”
The wedding date was getting closer and if he wasn’t going, I was taking a girlfriend. I had to know. Enough of this silence.
“Would you come to my place for a visit? Come for the weekend and we’ll go on to the wedding on Saturday.” his email said, replying to my inquiry “Do you still want to go to the wedding at the end of the month?”
“Something’s missing” was a hunch. No contact for three weeks and I wasn’t about to get myself in a bad situation. Carefully I crafted my reply “Let’s meet in Fredericksburg at 0 dark early and make it a day trip". He agreed.
At the wedding, Farmer was charming. He declined my request for a dance to check out dancing skills he claimed to have. Chats were on a variety of topics and engaging, especially over the omission of the word “obey” from the vows. Note to self – what’s the big deal?
On the return drive to Fredericksburg he invited me to his home for the weekend. This time I accepted for mid September, three weeks later. A wave to each other in our separate cars headed to our respective homes was “Goodbye. It was fun.”
When in Fredericksburg, I always get a Carls treat. Savoring Carl’s dessert, I relived the day. The wedding was beautiful, the most exquisite I’ve seen, no detail left out; being with Farmer; seeing old friends all in the lush setting of George Washington’s River Farm were as delicious as the frozen treat.
“Something’s not right. Something's missing. ” my intuition strongly resounded. I added up the numbers – years married to first wife, years married to second wife left an 8 year gap, no matter how I added. “Something’s missing. ” was the echo.
“No kidding” I replied. “But what is it? I'm no math whiz but 8 years is a life span. What in the world....”
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